


What's Left of Kisses?

by Seraphtrevs



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, M/M, Maybe a little OOC, Scar Kissing, but we can have some tender lacho as a treat, soft lalo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphtrevs/pseuds/Seraphtrevs
Summary: He brushed his finger over Nacho’s cheek again, and his obscenely long eyelashes fluttered. He leaned down and laid a kiss over each of Nacho’s scars—both shoulders, and then at last that pucker that nearly killed him. The harms done to Nacho would live with him forever on his body.If only Lalo’s kisses could leave marks as permanent.Lalo tries to convince Nacho to come home with him.
Relationships: Eduardo "Lalo" Salamanca/Ignacio "Nacho" Varga
Comments: 10
Kudos: 44
Collections: Lacho Week 2020





	What's Left of Kisses?

**Author's Note:**

> A bittersweet fic for a bittersweet end to Lacho Week 2020! I just want to say thank you to all of the incredible writers, artists, and readers who have made this week so amazing. (Running a little behind on comments, but I'll be catching up soon!)
> 
> I love this ship and this community - the Lacho hive is small but mighty, and so full of talent! Find me on Tumblr [@seraphtrevs](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/seraphtrevs) \- would love to see you there!

It was barely morning. Lalo had been awake for hours, but he’d gotten undressed and climbed back into bed with Nacho, who was still asleep. He relished his warmth; it been such a long time since he’d had someone in his bed for more than a night, and even longer still since he had someone as delectable as Ignacio Varga.

Lalo had wanted him from the moment he saw him, but Nacho had been cold and suspicious. He’d let his flirtation drop once it became clear that Nacho wasn’t into it. Besides, it was probably a terrible idea, fucking one of his own men, especially with how chaotic the situation was. But then to Lalo’s delight, Nacho had made a move. He wondered what had changed his mind. It was still a terrible idea, but if Lalo had to spent time in this gringo hellhole, he deserved to enjoy himself.

Lalo let his hand wander over Nacho’s body, pausing at his scars—one on each shoulder, and another just above his hip. His finger lingered at that last one, tracing over the rough skin. It was puckered, like a kiss.

Nacho’s eyes blinked open. Good. Lalo kissed him as he came fully awake.

“This should have killed you,” he murmured when they parted, running his finger over the scar again. “I’m very glad it didn’t.”

He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Me too. Sometimes, anyway.” He squinted at the clock. “What time is it?”

“Time to get up.” Lalo moved his hand to grasp Nacho’s morning erection.

Nacho batted his hand away. “Give me a minute. Jesus, do you always wake up like this?”

Lalo switched his caress to his thigh. “Like what?”

“Alert.” Nacho’s long eyelashes fluttered shut.

Lalo pinched his thigh, hard, and laughed as Nacho yelped and sat up. “Okay, I’m up. We got somewhere to be?”

“Maybe.” Lalo flashed his most charming smile. “Come to Mexico with me.”

Nacho’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“You heard me. I want to take you home.”

Nacho didn’t respond right away. “Are you asking me or ordering me?”

“That depends on your answer,” Lalo said. He was only half-teasing. He lay his chin on Nacho’s shoulder. “Come on, Nachito. It will be fun! I’ll teach you how to ride a horse.”

Nacho pushed him back, but before he could object, he straddled Lalo’s lap. “You sure you don’t want me to ride something else?”

Lalo chuckled. “ _¿Por qué no los dos?_ Do one in the morning, the other in the afternoon.” He slid his hands over Nacho’s thighs. “It shouldn’t be a problem for you with thighs like these.”

Nacho squeezed those powerful muscles, tight enough that Lalo winced. “When?”

“Today.”

“Today?” Nacho stared at him. “Like, just get up and go?”

“Why not? We leave now, we’ll be there by lunch.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I be kidding?”

“Because it’s kind of crazy? Who’s going to oversee operations?”

Lalo chuckled. “If our guys can’t cover things for a weekend, then we’re in a lot of trouble.”

Nacho looked back at the clock. It was 5:30am. “So we spend the night, then turn around and go home the next morning? Doesn’t seem worth it.”

“Then we stay a week.” Lalo nibbled his earlobe. “You worry too much. It’ll be fine.”

Nacho remained tense. “I thought you said you were on the verge of a breakthrough with Fring.”

“I am. And it would suit me for Fring to wonder why I took a sudden trip to Mexico. Have I figured something out I want to report to Don Eladio? Why am I bringing my second in command?” He shrugged elaborately, then grinned. “He’ll have no way of knowing, and it will drive him crazy!”

“Right.” Nacho pressed his lips together, then untangled himself from Lalo and got out of bed. “I need to piss.”

Lalo watched his glorious ass retreat into the en suite bathroom; he shut the door behind him. A moment later, the toilet flushed, and then the shower turned on.

A shower sounded fun. Lalo grabbed the lube and a condom from the nightstand. He waited until he was sure Nacho was in the shower before letting himself in the bathroom.

“I’ll be done in a minute,” Nacho said. Did Lalo detect a hint of annoyance in his voice?

“Take your time,” Lalo said. He set the condom and lube on the edge of the tub and got into the shower. Nacho flashed him a look—definitely annoyed. Lalo plucked the soapy washcloth from his grasp. “Let me get your back.”

Nacho’s eyes fluttered in what might have been an eyeroll, but he obediently turned around. Lalo rubbed the cloth over his broad shoulders and down each well-muscled arm. He relished the feel of his strength. “I need a break. You too. You’ll love my home. It’s…” He tried to think of the perfect word. “…idyllic.”

Nacho snorted. “Idyllic?”

“ _Si_ , idyllic!” he insisted. “ _La vida rural_ —there’s nothing like it. Fresh air instead of smog, stars instead of streetlights, the world in greens instead of grays…” He kissed the back of Nacho’s neck. “You’ll feel so relaxed you’ll never want to leave.”

Nacho’s shoulders tensed. “Lalo—” he began.

“ _No no no_ ,” Lalo chided. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like there’s a no attached to the end of it.” He brought the washcloth down and stroked Nacho’s dick. Nacho’s shoulders remained tense, but his dick hardened. Lalo worked him until that tension began to ease and his breath came quicker, and then a small moan escaped his lips. Lalo grinned in triumph. “Now say my name again.”

“ _Lalo_.” It was halfway between a moan and a sigh.

“Much better.” He rubbed his own rock-hard cock in the crack of Nacho’s ass as he continued to stroke him. “ _Dime que si, Ignacio_ ,” he teased. “You know you want to.”

Nacho bent forward, pressing his ass back against him. “ _Si, Lalo, por favor…”_

“And what are you saying yes to? Mexico, or my dick?”

Nacho glared over his shoulder. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Lalo laughed. He could keep teasing, but he was getting impatient himself. He retrieved the lube and coated his fingers. It didn’t take long to open Nacho up. Lalo unwrapped the condom and rolled it on, added a little more lube, and then he pressed inside. It was so tight at first but then gave way, letting him in where he wanted to be.

“ _Ay, Nachito_ ,” Lalo moaned. “You feel…idyllic.”

That startled a laugh out of Nacho. Lalo was getting good at that—finding ways around Nacho’s hard exterior. He kept his thrusts gentle at first, letting Nacho’s body adjust. Nacho moaned and bent over more, planting his feet wide and bracing himself against the tile. Looking to get fucked hard, it seemed. Lalo obliged, pulling out all the way before slamming back in again, and again.

The water continued to fall on them as they fucked, and Lalo imagined them in the rain at his home. They’d be outside after a long horseback ride with no one else around for miles. The sky, which had been sunny only moments before, would suddenly roll over with clouds and then the downpour would start, drenching them. Lalo would fuck him in the grass, the green smell of the earth surrounding them as they made love, and they’d shoot their seed into the earth and plant themselves there—

“I’m close,” Nacho gasped, snapping Lalo out of his daydream.

Lalo switched angles and sped up—they’d been together enough times for Lalo to know exactly how to send Nacho over the edge. He loved the sounds Nacho made—he was normally so tight-lipped, but when Lalo fucked him, he was gloriously vocal. Soon he was crying his release, and Lalo followed after, pushing in as deep as he could go.

The shower had grown cold. Lalo reached around Nacho to shut it off before pulling out. Nacho slipped away as Lalo dealt with the condom, grabbing a towel and disappearing back into the bedroom. Annoyance pricked him as he got a towel for himself and followed after Nacho.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re running away from me?” Lalo demanded as he entered the bedroom.

Nacho was sitting on the bed, pulling on his underwear. “Because you’re paranoid? Jesus, Lalo—if you want me to go anywhere, I’ll need to get dressed.”

Lalo’s annoyance melted. “Is that a yes I hear?”

Nacho, the tease, made him wait another few moments. “I need to go pack a bag,” he said. “And make a phone call,” he added under his breath.

Not as enthusiastic as Lalo would have liked, but he supposed it would be boring if Nacho’s yeses came too easily. He tackled Nacho to the bed and showered him with a flurry of kisses.

Nacho tried to push him away. “Come on, stop.” His mouth was twisted in a half-grin, a pained little breath of laughter escaping his lips.

A smile spread across Lalo’s face. “Ignacio—are you _ticklish_?”

Nacho tried to twist away but Lalo straddled him and pinned him to the bed, one hand firmly on the center of his chest. Nacho’s eyes flashed—a warning, maybe, but one that Lalo was in no mood to heed.

He used his free hand to tickle Nacho’s side. That laughter again, louder this time, his grin wider, almost a real smile. Nacho never smiled. Lalo was transfixed.

“Seriously, stop!” Nacho laughed as he tried to twist away, but Lalo redoubled his efforts, and soon they were wrestling on the bed, Lalo’s laughter joining in. At least until Nacho’s elbow connected with his face. Pain blossomed in his mouth, and he rolled over onto his back.

Nacho was over him in an instant. “Shit, Lalo—are you okay?”

Gingerly, Lalo touched his lip. His finger came back red. “ _Si, si, estoy bien_ ,” he said as he sat up.

Nacho grabbed some tissues from the nightstand and held them out to Lalo. When he didn’t take them, Nacho dabbed at his lips himself. “I’m sorry. Christ—I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

The mournfulness of his tone caught Lalo by surprise. He took the tissue and sopped up a little more blood, and then pulled it away. There wasn’t much blood at all—already the pain was receding. Certainly nothing worth getting upset over. “No harm done, Nachito.” Lalo brushed a finger over Nacho’s cheek. “What’s really troubling you?”

“Nothing. I’m just—I shouldn’t—” Nacho turned away. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Lalo put a finger under Nacho’s chin and tilted his head up. “You could always kiss it and make it better.”

He was hoping for a smile, but Nacho remained somber as he brought their lips together. Nacho’s tongue flicked over the cut. He pulled away and wiped his lip on the back of his hand.

Lalo wished they hadn’t just made love, because he wanted him again so badly it pained him. He leaned in for another kiss and gently pushed Nacho back onto the bed.

“You’re full of surprises, Ignacio,” he murmured.

Nacho just looked up at him with those enormous eyes of his—so unexpectedly beautiful, not at all the eyes of a hardened criminal. Lalo was struck with a pang of tenderness, which was unexpected too. This wasn’t supposed to mean anything. After all, it wasn’t as though Lalo had any intentions of permanently overseeing operations in Albuquerque, and the idea of some sort of long-distance relationship was absurd.

Lalo would take him to Mexico for a week and enjoy him. But sooner or later, it would be over, with nothing left but memories. He never expected that thought to make him sad, and yet here he was. Was that what Nacho’s melancholy really about? Was this his way of saying he’d miss Lalo, too?

He brushed his finger over Nacho’s cheek again, and his obscenely long eyelashes fluttered. He leaned down and laid a kiss over each of Nacho’s scars—both shoulders, and then at last that pucker that nearly killed him. The harms done to Nacho would live with him forever on his body.

If only Lalo’s kisses could leave marks as permanent.

***

_“The human race tends to remember the abuses to which it has been subjected rather than the endearments. What's left of kisses? Wounds, however, leave scars.”_

― Bertolt Brecht

**Author's Note:**

> Now that Lacho Week is over, I'll be returning to Reign in Hell! Only three chapters left. 😱 Not sure when Marco's chapter will be up. Hopefully in the next couple weeks.


End file.
